


Spark Of Black

by TheWalkingRed



Series: Breathe Life Into Me [1]
Category: Hellsing
Genre: Bad Historical Accuracy, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Coming of Age, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, F/M, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hellsing Pre-Canon, I'm not joking - Freeform, Just One Chapter(Maybe), Loss of Parent(s), Loss of Virginity, Menstruation Kink, Mild Gore, Murder Kink, Mythology References, Period-Typical Underage, Skyrim References, Soul Bond, Vampires, Violence, Weird Age Difference In Beginging, Yandere Alucard (Hellsing), Young Alucard (Hellsing), literally so much death, work with me here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:14:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23859646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWalkingRed/pseuds/TheWalkingRed
Summary: The warning bells rang too late. I was already in love.
Relationships: Alucard (Hellsing) & Reader, Alucard (Hellsing)/Original Character(s), Alucard (Hellsing)/Reader, Pip Bernadotte/Seras Victoria
Series: Breathe Life Into Me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719400
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	1. Antanasia, Alive

_A little bit further! Just a bit more-!_

He could not will his feet to run fast enough. They pounded against the damp earth in the early morning hours of the third of July. This was to be a most joyous day and it had turned to hell in the blink of an eye. The bundle in his arms felt heavier and heavier with every step he took, but this was not the time to mourn. Not yet, because there was _hope._ It was a dark, bleak hope, but one none the less. Viridian eyes cast down at the exposed facial features of the horribly discolored infant he carried as he ran. He saw no life in the half-lidded, mirroring green-blue gaze, only his frantic and petrified reflection. Flicking the cloth over the grim sight, the fair haired man's fire surged anew as he ran without abandonment.

_Please, little one. Do not leave us. Do not leave me._

Reaching his destination, Dimitri Vulpe, Suceava's local loremaster and librarian, came to a halt in front of impressive wooden doors. Not many would dare tread in the untamed wilds that made up the Moldavian forests. Dimitri, however, had become well acquainted with the stoic man that lived alone in this wilderness. A pale man that never seemed to be touched by age in the ten years since he first saw his face. They had connected through the bonds of limitless knowledge, and Dimitri was a right fool for any that sought to further their education. This man in particular had a strange taste for celestial insight, which at first struck an odd chord in Dimitri, but now, in his greatest time of need, Dimitri would gladly fall at this man's knees. Through the years, Dimitri had come to terms with the fact that Dracul Umbră, in all his eccentricity, was not entirely man's flesh and blood. There was a darker presence that lingered about him and it's damning ubiquity chased many of the other villagers away, but Dimitri was steadfast in his assumption that the pallid man, mortal or no, simply wanted to be left to his own devices and as a fellow scholar, he could respect the man's penchant for solitude.

Lacking his normal grace and formality, Dimitri pounded on the planes that made up the entrance to the seemingly abandoned castle.

"Please, Sir Dracul," The blond howled up at the stone citadel. "Tell me you are awake! I require your assistance! Please, _please!_ " He did not have to wait long for the latch to click and the door to groan as it drifted opened. Illuminated only by pale moonlight, stood Dracul. His crimson eyes found Dimitri immediately and his languid smile did nothing to comfort the panicked man at his doorstep.

"Good evening, Master Archivist." Dracul's smooth baritone greeted. "It is a beautiful night for a walk. Did you come to inquire about some company?" It was a jest, clearly, but Dimitri ignored this and instead handed him the small cluster of blankets. His faced clearly anguished, Dracul only raised an obsidian eyebrow in question. Deftly shifting the weight into one hand, Dracul removed the top layer of cloth. His eyes narrowed at the sight and moved to the man who was now doubled over in exertion in front of him.

"You came to deliver unto me a dead suckling?" Came the unperturbed query. At the stoic response, Dimitri jolted back to a standing position as he took in the dark enigma that stood before him. The man who now held his first born _daughter_ in one hand as if she were a Crăciunul roast duck. Dimitri made his morose known, but squared his shoulders and claimed Dracul's gaze as he spoke.

"Please, Sir Dracul," Dimitri began. "There must be something you can do for _her_."

"She?" Dracul echoed. Bringing his other hand up, he drug his index finger down the cool bridge of the infant's nose and promptly inserted it into the babe's mouth. He was unsurprisingly met with the icy wetness within.

"You daughter is dead, Dimitri." Dracul spoke plainly, removing his finger. This was it. Dimitri was to lay down all his cards.

"Dracul." Dimitri spoke, dropping the courteous title he always used. " _Strigoi mort_ ," He said, loosing a fraction of his brazenness. "There must be something you can do for her." Dimitri reiterated. And with his final sentence, sealed the fate of his beloved daughter forever.

"I will pay _any_ price."

The grin that broke across Dracul's face was sadistic and perverse. Crimson eyes glinted in fiendish delight as he began to chuckle.

"Of course, my friend. Where _are_ my manners?" Dracul moved back, pulling the door to his manor open wider. "Please, Dimitri. Come inside."

Way past the time of hesitation, Dimitri moved to follow the inhuman being, the thick chamber doors starling him as they closed. He clamored behind Dracul. As they walked down the hallways, the candelabras sparked and illuminated their path with a soft glow. Dracul hummed softly the tune of ' _Cantigas de Santa Maria'_ which hauntingly reverberated off the walls, giving Dimitri the eerie illusion that multiple voices harmonized with his undead host. Dimitri shook his head to clear his thoughts. The two men stopped before a large dining table, Dracul resting the infant gently on the wide surface. Dracul then proceeded to flick all the shreds of fabric aside, barring the child to the chill of his home. Dimitri paled and swallowed loudly at the sight. His beloved daughter had gone blue in pallor, nearing black at the hands and feet as uncirculated blood pooled. Her chest was concave with breaths she never took. Thin, spidery veins of midnight blue branched out on the small expanse of her body. Pale, blond hair that matched his own seemed dull and brittle. Dimitri could not stifle the moan of penitency that followed. Dracul's unfeeling gaze drug from the lifeless child to the anguished man at his left and back. Dracul stroked the small patch of dark hair on his chin in thought for a moment, before turning away.

"Wait here a moment." Dracul requested. Dimitri then watched as his host disappeared _through_ the wall. He could have fainted right there. This was all amounting to be an overwhelming day that he wasn't sure he could handle any longer. Dimitri pulled back a sturdy oak chair that screeched in protest to sit before his late daughter. Then he cried.

"To lose you," Dimitri started to the empty room, "would be losing myself. I patiently waited nine months to hold you close. I will _not_ bury you!" He cried out, the heartache flooding the dining chamber.

"How very trite of you, dear Dimitri." Dracul replied, materializing beside Dimitri. Dracul set down a glass jar that seemed to contain ground pebbles and fresh earth. Beside that he laid down an ornate dagger. The last thing he laid down was stone, about the size of his fist, the startling color of canary yellow. The ageless being then trained his crimson gaze on his woeful guest.

"Shall we proceed?" Dracul asked, raising a brow.

"Yes," Dimitri stuttered, standing. "I am ready." Dracul's eyes crinkled as he smirked town at the studious man.

"At your command."

Dracul was quiet for a moment, staring down at the remains of the child. He then reached for the jar, opened it, and grabbed a handful of the moist soil.

"Forgive me, Dracul." Dimitri timidly interrupted, "but is that dirt?" Clearly irritated by the instant interruption, Dracul huffed and lifted his eyes to glower at Dimitri

"Yes," Dracul told him, moving to continue his work. "The soil of my homeland. It is so her spirit can come back to rest here without qualms." Dimitri furrowed his brows, clearly more confused by the explanation. Dracul rubbed his palms together, the earth between them sprinkling evenly over the front of the babe. With gentle dexterity, Dracul then rolled the infant on her front to repeat the dusting of earth on her back. When he returned the child to the supine position, he benevolently roved his hands across the offspring's torso and limbs. The flecks of terrain began to absorb into the babes skin, giving the child a healthy coating of freckles. Dimitri watched in awe.

Next order of business came as Dracul picked up the baroque blade. He didn't flinch as he dug the sharpened point into his index finger. The ruby red liquid mounted at the peak of his finger. Dracul gave a cursory lick to prevent the excess from dripping. He laughed at the sickened face Dimitri gave at the action.

"Waste not, want not." Dracul said with a chortle. He brought his finger down to the babe's chest and across her sternum began to draw a Leviathan's Cross. Dracul's blood was slick against her skin, and much like the soil, her skin drank in the immortal's gore. The sigil remained mostly intact, fading to a blush pink. With a soft caress, Dracul removed a smudge of blood from the child's rib with a swipe of his thumb. He brought the thumb and forefinger to his mouth, licking away the excess blood.

"It looks like a scar." Dimitri whispered, eyes unable to peel from his child. Dracul hummed in agreement.

"It will stay with her like a scar," Dracul acknowledged, admiring his work so far. "Until the end of her days."

Dracul moved to the final stage. He reached for the fragile, yellow stone, holding it gently in two hands above the infant. Dimitri watched in abject horror as the stone in Dracul's hand caught fire and burn an electrifying shade of blue. With bated breath, Dimitri then witnessed as the stone began to melt and nearly screamed as the molten substance dripped through Dracul's fingers. The crackling of his daughter's skin as the smelted element made contact was enough. Dimitri wretched in a bin used for holding walking canes. He couldn't tell if it was the sound of the flesh burning or the _smell_ , but Dimitri was clearly exceeding his limit.

Dracul crinkled his nose in disgust as the man at his back emptied his stomach on his various pikestaffs. The Faust Fire continued to burn away the brimstone in Dracul's hand. The molten sulfur hit its mark, and the sigil he had drawn soaked in the element. The skin of the stamp became raised like a true scar. The stone continued to melt until her little body was sodden, and Dracul smiled as her chest held a haunting red glow of hellfire within.

"We are almost complete." Dracul commented idly, picking up the jeweled dirk again. Dimitri hesitated to stand, staring apprehensively at Dracul's back.

"What will you require in return for bringing her back to me?" Dimitri inquired, stammering. Dracul rolled his eyes and turned to Dimitri, dagger in hand. In doing so, the unobstructed view of his daughter had Dimitri retching again. Her chest was alight with a scarlet glow, lighting up all of her internal organs and highlighting the veins that ran across her lithe body. It was morbid.

"Now you ask?" Dracul countered, seemingly amused, though no smile touched his lips. "It is simple, really. I will give you a time with her, say sixteen years?"

"And then?" Dimitri wavered as he asked. Dracul scoffed as if it were obvious.

"And then, you shall return her to me." He turned his body back toward the child and lifted one of her blackened hands. Dimitri blanched at Dracul's declaration. Quickly nicking the sides of her index finger, Dracul took the infant's digit to his mouth to get a taste of her body and soul. It was a rush of ecstasy for him, for there is no blood more purified than that of newborn. He had to quickly rein himself in. With her blood in his mouth, he bit down onto his own tongue, mixing them together. He could instantaneously feel the pull of her spirit, her soul, around him.

"There is only one thing left to do," Dracul commented, eyes trained on the lifeless gaze of the infant. "Say you agree to my terms. Swear it."

As if Dimitri had a choice. It was sixteen years with his daughter or none. Perhaps she would come to understand.

"I accept your terms."

"Wonderful."

Dracul wasted no more time. He bent down, covering her mouth and nose with his own and breathed life into her. It shattered the sphere of hellfire within her chest, sending heat to her extremities. It immediately banished the sickly pallor from her skin, giving it a healthy glow. He followed it with a steady second breath, this time allowing the blood mixture to flow into her mouth, absorbing under her tongue. A noticeable weight sunk into Dracul's chest and he closed his eyes shut as a ruthless glee overtook him. With the third and final breath, he willed the soul back into the young suckling's body and at last she gasped for air against him. Pulling back, Dracul smiled down sinfully at the child. Her hair had gone a _fiery_ copper with the transformation. The _strigoi_ watched in wicked fascination and the youngling took in greedy breaths, eyes pinched shut. Dracul rand his hand through the now russet locks.

"Open your eyes, my sweet." Dracul murmured. And she did. But the were not the dull viridian he had seen before.

Her eyes now embodied the canary yellow that was the hellish element of brimstone. Her breathing steadied and youngling gazed up at Dracul in wonder, not weeping. Dracul threw his head back and laughed. Madness temporarily consuming him.

Dimitri however, was stunned into silence. Watching the whole exchange from the side, Dimitri was frozen in fear. The spectacle Dracul had put on had metaphysically aged Dimitri twenty years. Dracul was really a demon of some sort. Was his daughter now tainted? _Was that even his daughter anymore?_ He really should have inquired further instead of rushing in here fool hardy and allowing this devil to work his dark magic on his only child.

On the other side of the coin, his daughter was alive. _She is alive!_

Dracul had calmed during Dimitri's internal struggle. He flexed both of his hands before tenderly lifting the infant. He cradled her in his left arm, allowing his right hand to wipe away the blood the over lap of his own mouth had left.

"Welcome back, little one." Dracul whispered oddly fond. His thumb moving to stroke the raised flesh of the Leviathan's Cross in an almost possessive manor. Two, small hand grabbed at his larger one and he chuckled. Turning to Dimitri, he presented the infant to him.

"Your daughter."

Dimitri was hesitant, but as soon as his hands came in contact with the warm flesh, he became greedy.

"My little girl, my baby!" He cried joyous, hugging the small body against his chest. "I love you, I love you." Dimitri murmured softly bouncing from one foot to the other.

"Antanasia."

"What?" Dimitri halted in his rhythmic steps.

"Her name is Antanasia." Dracul said firmly, looking only at the child. Dimitri looked to the babe in his arms and found her looking almost _longingly_ at Dracul in return. Who was Dimitri to argue with the man who pull his girl from the dead?

"Antanasia, it is." He tested, his daughter looked to him then. Her dandelion stare unnerving. "It is fitting."

"Thank you, Sir Dracul." Dimitri said after a while of silence.

"Of course." He said noncommittally, looking away from the child. The sun was beginning to rise, and Dracul was tired. A pang in his stomach caused him to look over at Dimitri, at Antanasia. "She hungers. Return to your wife, Dimitri." Dimitri looked shocked at the admission. His child had yet to cry.

"Right away, sir." He agreed, "Thank you." Dimitri said again. He bundled Antanasia back in the swaddling cloths and made to leave. Before reaching the entrance, however, he heard Dracul call to him.

"Please bring Antanasia to visit often." Dimitri found he could not deny the beast that revived his daughter.

"Of course."

Looking down at his daughter, now in the sunlight, he realized how different she looked from him and his wife now. How would he make he wife understand? Dimitri sighed and began to make his was back to his home. However, he was quickly realizing that the father he walked towards home, _away_ from Dracul, Antanasia began to whimper more and more. And once he was planted outside the door to his home? Antanasia began to wail.

_What have I done?_


	2. Forgive Me, Father

"O My God, relying on Thy infinite goodness and promises, I hope to obtain pardon of my sins, the help of Thy grace and life everlasting, through the merits of Jesus Christ, my Lord and Redeemer."

-Act of Hope, prayer

* * *

Elena knew right away that something was terribly _wrong_ with her daughter.

She had been distraught for weeks. The laboring pains of pregnancy growing to an impossible maximum. Elena kept thinking back to the ghastly visions she had been plagued with near the end of her pregnancy. She had dreamed the devil himself had taken her beautiful daughter. The King of Destruction told her dream specter that he was to punish her for her sins. In her nightmares, he would grin down at Elena wolfishly, cradling the blond infant tenderly. Elena shared these horrors with her husband and Dimitri had told her not to worry. So, Elena took it upon herself to look in the occult works that Dimitri had been accumulating for a 'friend'. One in particular stood out to her, and that was the myth of a _changeling._ It was a story she had heard before in her home of Ireland. It was a bedside tale her grandmother would recount nightly. ' _If you are not good, the devil will take you and leave behind a demon child in your wake to harm us all.'_ But Elena was a god-fearing Catholic, and those things didn't exist. Right?

The last dream came much like the others, but now she could see her devil. A handsome, roguish man who held her daughter with sadistic glee. The dream was of him changing her, biting into the soft flesh of her daughter and creating a monster. The child's eyes burned red like the devil who held her. Elena woke from that dream covered in amniotic fluid and had given birth to a full-term stillborn that night. She had created a daughter in the starling image of the very man she loved, but the child did not draw breath.

"Please," Elena gasped quietly up at the midwife, completely disturbed by the silence that followed. The young assistant looked hesitant at Elena's utterance. "Please, tell me she is alive." The midwife frowned and shook her head, raising the freshly born infant for the mother to see. Red, covered in blood and fluid from the womb, but also blue from lack of oxygen. Elena made a choking sound in the back of her throat before crying out to her husband Dimitri in the other room.

Dimitri burst into the room his eyes locking on his distressed wife. Blond hair on end from the ruthless way he mused it for hours during Elena's labor.

"My love?" He questioned, slanting closer. He ran a cool had down the side of his beloved's face. "What is-?" He began, but his eyes soon found the midwife. She had a infant sized bundle in her arms, and a solemn look on her face. To the husband she passed over the freshly washed babe, mumbling an apology. The midwife began to pray.

"No." Dimitri gasped, hands shaking as he held his lifeless young. "NO! This cannot be!" Elena watched, silent tears now falling freely from her eyes. To exhausted to do more than reach her hand out to her broken family. Dimitri took her hand in his, crying with his wife. He knelled down beside her so that Elena could look at their daughter as well.

"She looks just like you." Elena commented softly. "A fair, would-be scholar, to follow in her father's footsteps." Her hand going completely slack. Dimitri looked over and noticed that his wife's eyes were now closed and his panic spiked. He jumped back, clutching the infant to his chest.

"Is she, too?!" He asked, very afraid to know the answer. The midwife promptly shook her head.

"Not at all. The fatigue, my lord, has simply caught up with her." The birthing assistant said. "I will have her cleaned up and resting in a hour or so."

Dimitri nodded, trusting the woman. His gaze went back down to the child in his arms.

"I would do anything to see you alive, my child." Dimitri said, lovingly. Longingly. "There is nothing I wouldn't do, please believe me. But I am no medic. There is nothing-!"

Dimitri halted in his thoughts as his eyes trailed to the stack of books he was supposed to deliver to the isolated friend he had in the woods. Sir Dracul, as he was called, had a very cabalistic taste, and paid Dimitri well to acquire the mysterious works and deliver them to his adobe. Dimitri had long suspected something _supernatural_ about his secluded companion, and though it was a long shot, perhaps that man could bring his daughter back to him. However unsavory that method may be.

With his mind made up, Dimitri bound his daughter tightly and left with out goodbye.

xxxxxx

When next Elena woke, she was cold. And she was alone. She sat up gently in bed, wincing as a jolt of pain raced down her body. Elena through her legs off the side of the bed and aggressively rubbed her eyes. Crying had startled her from her slumber. The crying of an infant. Why her mind would plague her so, she didn't know. She found it cruel and unwarranted. But the crying persisted. Her anger began to rise, and pain be damned, she descended down the stairs for a glass-or bottle- of gin. What she was unprepared for was her husband to be standing there, in the center of their kitchen, with a bundled infant that was very much _alive._

"If this is a dream, Dimitri," Elena stared hesitantly, taking measured steps toward him. "Don't you dare wake me." Dimitri smiled softly, looking down at the child and back to his wife. The smile faltered slightly. He cooed to the child to calm her, and it worked.

"It is our daughter, Elena." Dimitri said. "She is alive, my love." Elena chest heaved as she reached out with shaking hands.

"But," Dimitri said tentatively. "Her appearance is different." That made Elena's blood run cold.

"Are her eyes red?" Elena whispered out, that being all she could muster.

"Are her eyes- What?" Dimitri questioned back."No." He said affirmatively.

"Then nothing else matters." And with that Elena scooped the child from his arms. Fear paralyzed her as she looked down at _it._

No, her eyes were not _red_ , but they were not sea-green she remembered. That was equally as starling. The now stark yellow shade of her daughter's irises reminded Elena of the brilliance a lightning beetle and seemed to gently glow like one as well. And her hair. The hair Elena had only seen briefly was no-longer the blanched blond that her husband had, it was a glittering copper. The gossamer strands seemed fuller as she ran her hands through them. Freckles dusted over every inch of exposed skin. There was no question, this was a beautiful child. She held the child out to Dimitri.

But this wasn't _her_ beautiful child.

"I reject it." Elena said coldly. "This is not my daughter." Dimitri stared at his wife in horror, quickly swiping the infant from Elena's hand.

"You _reject_ her?!" He said, clearly enraged. The infant in his arms began to fuss softly. "This is her, our child!" bitterness lacing every syllable as Dimitri addressed Elena. Elena remained stoic.

"She is hungry, Elena." Dimitri's voiced lowered, pleading.

"Let her die," Elena replied, growing cold. "like she was fated to."

Dimitri was at a loss. He thought his wife would understand. He thought he could make her understand, if nothing else. Surely she could see Dimitri loved his family more than anything and this attested to that. Rage quickly began to bubble up over the hopelessness. Dimitri held fast to his child. Elena saw the decision in his eyes and her jaw dropped.

"A changeling!" Elena harped, stomping back up to their bedroom. Dimitri followed, trying to soothe the irate infant. "A beast straight from the devil himself to devour us!"

"You are demented!" Dimitri all but screamed back, never mind the detail surrounding the resurrection of his daughter. "Truly, you have." Dimitri, looked down at the beautiful girl in his arms.

"Leave then." Dimitri turned from Elena. "If I see you again before I die, it will have been too soon."

Elena watched Dimitri leave, tears streaking down her face. Hesitating for only a moment, Elena soon turned, gathers her belongings, and left.

xXxXxXxX

The journey had been long, but once Elena laid her eyes back on the rolling hills of Ireland she released a long breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The air felt clearer here in her home land and as she took in the familiar sights of the bustling ports and fisherman, she couldn't remember what had possessed her to leave in the first place. Elena had arrived midday just as winter was settling in, so all the normal green sights were dusted in a layer of white. As soon as Elena's feet hit the cobblestone, her body instinctively turned downhill to head to her family's cottage, but she halted. Elena turned, resting a hand over her empty abdomen. Her first destination was uphill, she remembered, and headed that way instead.

Merely a stone's throw from her family's farm was the Catholic abbey. The church was a home away from home for her and everyone in her devout family. The path was well maintained, the plants that decorated were cultivated with love. Elena smile as she walked, her heart lightening with every step. The echoing laughter of children playing in the courtyard stilled her. How could she forget? The abbey double as the local orphanage. Elena was now unsure of her strength, wavering at the thought of seeing healthy children so soon. Her hands were trembling on the wrought iron gate that separated Elena from the monastery. She had to remain resolute. _He needs to know._

"Do my eyes yet deceive me?" A deep, rumbling chuckle followed. "Little Elena, finally in full bloom." Elena turned her head and met a familiar emerald stare.

"Father Anderson." Elena greeted, a soft smile appearing. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon, to you as well, my child." Alexander Anderson smiled, walking up to the gate, opposite of Elena. "It has been too long since we've last spoken. Where is the husband I have heard such good things about?" Father Anderson questioned, looking behind her for only a moment. "And a child? I had heard you were with child?" Father Anderson watched as her hand gently caressed her stomach before balling into a fist.

"A lot has happened. I hope God can forgive me." Elena's voice became grave as she spoke to the confessor. Father Anderson gave her a stern look before pulling the gate open and latching a hand to her shoulder.

"If it is penance you seek," He began, smiling down at Elena. "Let me absolve you."

Elena allowed herself to be lead into the monastery, he head bowed down avoiding the curious onlookers. Father Anderson steered her through the Nave of the church and in to the Blessed Sacrament Chapel. He ushered her to sit as he closed the doors behind them. Lighting a few candle on the table, Father Anderson came to sit beside Elena.

"Lay out your sins to me, child." Father Anderson probed gently.

"Bless me father, for I have sinned." Elena began the sacrament naturally. "My last confession, well, it has been too long." Elena picked at her fingers, nervous once more to begin in front of the man who has blessed her all her life. Elena took a steadying breath, and clasping her hands in prayer, she unfolded before Alexander.

"These are my sins: Father, I married a mad man who entertains a devil. A far cry from the scholar I met all those years ago. Dimitri, is his name, began to socialize with a phantom of a man that never leaves the forests on the border of Wallachia. This dark person asked my husband to acquire handwritten works depicting the preternatural. Dimitri amassed a collection Pope Paul II would call heresy. At Dimitri's urging, we stopped going to church after I realized my pregnancy. I could not go against my husbands command, Father. Throughout my days of child-bearing, I was plagued with horrific nightmares that _Lucifer_ had my child in his hands. My child was born still. I felt wronged by God, but I knew there must be a reason. My faith was tested. On the dawn of the next morning, Dimitri stood before me with a child he tried to pass as our daughter, but I instantly knew. Dimitri had gone to the demon in the woods. It is only through some necromancy that our daughter lives. I couldn't stay with a husband who went against God to have our daughter live."'

Elena deflated, hands falling in her lap at her long-winded explanation. She didn't notice the way Father Anderson had tensed up the moment she mentioned a 'devil in the Wallachian woods'. She gasped lightly as Father Anderson took up one of her hands and with the other he wipe away tears she hadn't realized had fallen.

"You were right to come home." He began, gently smiling at the crying woman.

"God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." Alexander recited the prayer of Absolution. Elena smiled, fresh tears rolling down her face. She replied in kind with the Act of Contrition.

"O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of Heaven and the pains of Hell. But, most of all, because they have offended Thee, my God, Who art all good, and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy Grace, to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life. Amen."

"I believe some works of mercy are in order for your penance." Father Anderson said, standing. I will have you help out at the orphanage for a time, but for now. Go home and rest, my child. I will see you on Sunday's service."

Father Alexander Anderson didn't give her room to reply as he made he exit. A gleeful smile adorned his face.

"Of course you are still alive, you fiend." Anderson mumbled to himself, staring up at the stained glass that depicted the 'Sacred Heart'. "And now, you have used your devilry to conjure up a demon minx to accompany you in undeath. That is unacceptable." Anderson bowed his head and prayed.

"O Lord, give me the strength to exorcise that being from existence, and the will to deliver the child from evil."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright boys and girls, its alot of set up in these first few chapters, but I hope you enjoy some backstory!
> 
> I used creative liberties here, seeing as its very vague on how old anderson is. I hope you enjoy this chapter, next will be from Antanasia's POV!

**Author's Note:**

> AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
> 
> Okay, That was the intro chapter to 'Breathe Life Into Me' which is a trilogy! Woooo! So book one is pre-Hellsing, Book two is during Hellsing, and book three is post-Hellsing. This will include elements from Hellsing and Hellsing Ultimate getting very AU at book three cause I really like to make people happy damnit. 
> 
> This story is M for EVERYTHING. Gore, Violence, Language, Adult Themes, Torture, you know, all the fun stuff. I will do my best to have trigger warnings at unbearable parts, but its ALUCARD we are talking about here. He is vicious, perverse, and SADISTIC AF. I own nothing except for OC's you don't recognize.
> 
> Thanks much! -Grey


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